


Strip Me to My Fingertips, I Will Tell You All of It

by Insomne



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Come Eating, Fluff, M/M, Masturbation, Morning Sex, Morning Wood, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Riding, Shiro has a stubble, Trans Keith (Voltron), afab language, theyre married and in love and so domestic, wink wink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 05:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16212503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomne/pseuds/Insomne
Summary: Lying down in cold, hard earth for two years was bound to have a toll on Keith. The jagged rocks dug into his skin and the ache in his bones never permitted him to have more than a few hours of rest. Kosmo, of course, helped greatly, once he began to smell the trust that seeped out of Keith in waves and went from sleeping by his feet to allowing the man to use him as a pillow. Some nights, when the loneliness and desperation clung to Keith’s skin and weighed him down like wet cloth, Kosmo’s fur was the only thing he could cling to to stop the tears from following and worrying his mother to no extent.





	Strip Me to My Fingertips, I Will Tell You All of It

**Author's Note:**

> for mei, because we deserve to feel good and write about it shamelessly.
> 
>  
> 
> unbeta'ed
> 
>  
> 
> title taken from my muse, sabrina claudio, and her song “naked”

Lying down in cold, hard earth for two years was bound to have a toll on Keith. The jagged rocks dug into his skin and the ache in his bones never permitted him to have more than a few hours of rest. Kosmo, of course, helped greatly, once he began to smell the trust that seeped out of Keith in waves and went from sleeping by his feet to allowing the man to use him as a pillow. Some nights, when the loneliness and desperation clung to Keith’s skin and weighed him down like wet cloth, Kosmo’s fur was the only thing he could cling to to stop the tears from following and worrying his mother to no extent.

 

Returning to the Castle of Lions was as jarring as you could imagine it’d be. He’d had a bed he could rest in— even for a few minutes while they’d waited for Allura and Lotor to return— and a shower he could scrub the dirt and grime of two years past off of him. 

 

The rest is a blur he can barely remember without a cup of whiskey. 

  
  


———➰———

  
  


Between the white blinds streams sunlight in soft tones of butterscotch and cream. Keith’s been awake for a few hours now, wrapped up in thick fluffy sheets and Shiro’s sleeping form, staring at the curtains billow with the morning draft from the slightly open window. 

 

After the war, when Shiro got promoted to Admiral and Keith won twenty awards for things he couldn’t remember doing, they’d settle down in a small ranch a few miles away from the Garrison. Everything was decorated in shades of white and eggshell, per Shiro’s “sophisticated” suggestion, and the walls were vibrant in baby blues and cyan. Keith thinks Shiro looks the most handsome surrounded by blue; Shiro still blushes a pretty shade of pink when he says it, two full years after their wedding date.

 

Now, with his arm hanging out of the mattress, the base of his ring finger glimmering gold in the morning light, Keith sighs in contentment for the first time in ten years. 

 

Shiro stirs beside him and hums. The arm that pillows Keith’s head flexes, and Keith turns in place to watch his husband wake up. With naked legs tangled and pale eyelashes fluttering softly against tan cheeks, Shiro hums once more. “Mm’ornin.”

 

The blue light of his prosthesis turns on gradually. From the nightstand, his hand lights up as well. 

 

“Good morning,” Keith says, placing a small kiss on Shiro’s naked chest. “How’d you sleep?” Shiro hums in response, not fully awake yet. His bionic arm gives him a thumbs-up and Keith grins and says, “I’ll start breakfast in a minute.”

 

Kissing his chest again, Keith untangles himself from his husband and stands from the bed, the white sheets falling off his body reminiscent of a Greek statue— or so Shiro sleepily mumbles before Keith playfully smacks his leg. 

 

Quite naked and happy, Keith goes to the kitchen and flips on the stove with a pot of boiling eggs and Shiro’s hellish coffeemaker. As that screeches and whistles, he pads back into their room and to the bathroom, where last night’s clothes were strewn haphazardly across the floor in a hurry to undress and touch under steamy water that clouded the mirror and walls in seconds. 

 

Keith bathes quickly, too used to army showers and not enough to relaxation and the pleasure of bathing simply to bathe. The suds slips down soft skin and his long hair clings to his shoulder blades. He looks at the green razor blade in the shower caddy and debates using it, before shrugging and turning the water off without chancing it a second glance. 

 

In the kitchen, the coffeemaker screeches louder, but in the bed, Shiro lays like he’s watching a painting being completed when Keith steps out of the bathroom with the only towel on the rack on his hair. 

 

“Y’know,” Shiro’s voice is always deeper in the morning, and paired with the shadow on his chin of a stubble he forgot to shave, Keith’s navel dips. “For all the clothes in our closet, we’re quite nudists.”

 

Keith smiles and crawls on the bed, the towel forgotten among the sheets. “Who cares? It’s just you and me for miles and miles. I’ll be damned if I can’t enjoy being naked around my husband.”

 

Shiro chuckles, low and pleased. Keith’s wet hair drags across his chest, droplets slipping down the curve of his muscles as Keith straddles his hips. With his flesh hand, Shiro cups Keith’s face and pulls him forward, slotting their lips together in a soft kiss they both can’t help but sigh into. Deepening it, Keith wraps his arms around his husbands neck and shifts his stance slightly, before pulling away and blinking.

 

“Is there something on the bed or am I sitting right on your morning wood?” He says, sounding more like a statement and less like a question. 

 

Shiro’s cheeks turn dark red, his scar almost blending into the tan. Above him, laughter bursts out of Keith’s chest. 

 

“Shut up,” Shiro mumbles, shifting his hips under him until there’s a semblance of space between his cock and Keith’s cunt. 

 

“You didn’t plan on taking care of it at all?” Keith grins. “Or were you waiting for me?” 

 

“Actually, I was waiting for the shower.” Shiro confesses, his hips still shifting. Keith tenses his thighs beside them, and immediately, Shiro stills and stares up at him with wide eyes. 

 

“I could do it.” 

 

It’s not like they’ve never had morning sex. Keith’s woken him up with blowjobs, handjobs, and even riding him, one time, just like he’s been woken up with Shiro’s face between his thighs, a hand at his chest and another inside his folds. But Shiro’s always been embarrassed over unpredictable morning boners— mostly because he feels like Keith will think he wants him to do something about it. 

 

Keith never gets wet as fast as he does when Shiro wakes up with a boner.

 

“Keith, you don’t—“

 

Pressing his body right against Shiro’s, Keith bites his chin softly. “Shut up and let me ride you.” 

 

He hears the heavy gulp Shiro takes before he nods. 

 

Keith leans up to kiss him again, to slide their lips together and clink teeth gently. When Shiro relaxes into it and licks around his husband’s mouth, Keith starts to let his hands travel. He squeezes the muscle between Shiro’s neck and shoulder and drags his nails across his chest, catching them on the nubs of his nipples, rubbing and pressing them around his fingertips. Beneath him, Shiro shudders and releases a moan against peach lips. 

 

On his thigh, Keith feels the cold metal of the prosthetic caress his thigh and go up, up, up, until it covers almost the entirety of his rib cage and pulls them closer together. Thicker, the head of his cock nudges the space between Keith’s hipbones, and he shifts to accommodate it. When his hand touches the shaft to move it, Shiro releases a sigh felt in his entire body. 

 

Keith flips and pushes all of his hair to one side so that he can stare at the man clearly when he positions his cunt right on the base and moves, his wet folds rubbing up and down and slickening it. In his thrusts, his clit rubs right against the head, making a mess of pre-cum and slick, and they both groan. 

 

“Fuck,” Shiro squeezes his eyes shut as Keith moves and kisses the scars littered across his neck, shoulders and collarbone. His hands hold Keith’s hips and, ever so generous, help him press harder against his hard cock. “Fuck, baby. Just like that.” 

 

Straightening up, Keith props himself up on Shiro’s taunt stomach, grinding harder, faster. His breath comes out in heavy sighs. “I need you, Taka.  _ Fuck _ , I need you in me.” 

 

“But—“ 

 

Keith shakes his head at the palpable worry Shiro emits. “I’m still stretched. I’m fine—“ He’s cut off by a loud moan as the bionic hand presses four thick fingers over his cervix and his thumb rubs over the hood of his clit. “ _ Shit.  _ Takashi,  _ please.”  _

 

Shiro nods, lifting Keith up slightly. He holds the base of his cock, positioning it right against Keith’s entrance, and Keith rubs the leaking head around his slick, grinning as his pulls his lip between his teeth to stop the guttural moan that threatens to rip right from his lungs. Sliding in inch by inch, Shiro’s stare is locked onto Keith’s expressions— how he scrunches his nose, pulls his eyebrows together, how the scar his clone had given him colors a deeper shade of red with the blush split across his face and chest. His peach lips part around a gasp as the thick middle of Shiro’s dick opens him up further, stretching his pussy lips and folding them around it. 

 

_ “Shiiiiit. Shit!”  _ Keith hisses. “Oh, my god, Shiro!”

 

“You good?” He has the gall to ask. 

 

Keith nods fervently above him, and slaps a palm on the sheets beside his head and pulls at them. Breathing shakily, Shiro holds Keith’s hips, thumbs digging into his bones as he lifts himself up and drops down slowly. They moan in tandem, and Keith repeats the motion until he’s bouncing happily, the tips of his hair curling and bouncing along with him. 

 

Above him, a grin returns to Keith’s lips, knocked clean off when Shiro thrusts up and bottoms out. 

 

_ “God, FUCK!”  _

 

They meet each other’s movements, Shiro’s cock slamming right into Keith’s cervix over and over, making him gasp and tearing short shouts and growls from him. His hair, flipping everywhere with the movement, is pushed right against his scalp with one hand as Keith uses the other one to fondle his chest, thumb and index finger rubbing at nipple as Shiro thrusts up into his, deeper, deeper, so deep Keith can swear he feels it in his throat. When Shiro presses a finger under Keith’s hood and rubs consistently at his clit, Keith screams. 

 

Looking at his husband, Keith feels his body, his cunt, enveloped by scorching hot flames. It’s the way Shiro’s eyes soften— the way his jaw, sharp and dangerous, slackens, and the way his lips part and pronounce Keith’s name in the form of a moan that have Keith tipping his head back, arms braced on Shiro’s powerful thighs, and rolls his eyes, shouting, “Fuck, Takashi, I’m gonna come!” 

 

It’s the way it only takes one look at his husband and the golden band around the fourth finger that pets at his clit to make Keith feel so wanted, so safe, so  _ loved _ . 

 

“Fu- _ uck! I’m gonna come, I’m gonna—“ _

 

True to his words, Keith’s body spasms violently as slick gushes from his cunt and puddles right at the base of Shiro’s cock. He tightens around him as his orgasm leaves him on Cloud 9, eyes watering as his face reddens like it’s sunburnt. He slumps into Shiro’s chest, still heaving, as he rides it out. 

 

Under him, Shiro pulls at Keith’s thighs and digs his fingertips in hard enough to bruise. His thrusts become sloppier, yet harder, and as his balls slap right on Keith’s skin, the younger of the two grits his teeth at the sound of his moist, spongy g-spot getting abused and reddened. 

 

Finally, with nails dragging angry red lines across his arms, Shiro finished inside of Keith with a thrust hard enough to make him yelp and bite his tongue, filling him up with warm come. Grinding out his orgasm, Shiro peppers kisses along Keith’s cheeks, jaw, and neck, his stubble scratching at his skin.

 

They groan as he pulls out. Keith flops next to him, sighing contentedly in a haze of pleasure. 

 

“We should have sex every morning.” 

 

“We’d die.” Shiro tells him. 

 

Keith grins. “But, shit, man, it’d be a good way to go.” 

 

At this, Shiro can’t help but chuckle. Beside him, Keith bites at his nail to keep himself from laughing. 

 

“Oh,” Keith cuts his laugh short. He sits up, propped on his elbows. 

 

“What?”

 

“It’s spilling.” Shiro’s come. 

 

Keith sighs and brings his middle and ring finger up to his mouth. Shiro watched as he licks them languidly, coating them completely in saliva, and his dick twitches. Then, Keith spreads his legs and rubs at his cunt. Shiro’s eyes fly open when Keith brings his hand back up and sucks the white from his fingers. 

 

“Do you—“ He clears his throat. “Do you do this every time I come in you?”

 

Keith slides his fingers out of his lips sensually, leaves them coated in spit, and then rubs at his pussy again. “Why do you think I stopped buying condoms?”

 

“I thought…” Keith’s fingers rub at his clit. “...Though it was because you got…” His fingers slip through his entrance, thick ribbons of Shiro’s cup and Keith’s slick spilling through the sides.

 

“‘Cause I got what, Takashi?” Keith asks, voice low and sultry and, damn his Galra genes. Shiro’s cock now stiffens with a half boner while Keith gets wetter and wetter. 

 

He growls in lieu of finishing his sentence, and slams his mouth into Keith’s, teeth clashing. Keith’s fingers thrust in and out vigorously, the squelching bringing Shiro’s half-hard into standing fully upright once again. 

 

Keith moans into his mouth and smiles. “So fast?”

 

“Shut up.” 

 

Shiro trails kisses from Keith’s scar to his neck, his stubble scratching at soft skin. He wraps his lips around a pink, perky nipple and sucks, his bionic hand cupping his other one and fondling it, trailing softly across the scar underneath the breast. He feels more than hears the moan reberating through his husband’s chest. His fingers thrust faster. 

 

“Nnngh, Taka- _ shi _ ,” He moans, curling his unused hand into Shiro’s bangs. 

 

Shiro switches and kisses and sucks at his other nipple, trailing his lips down, down, down, until he’s sucking a bruise into Keith’s hipbone, holding his squirming hips still. He slaps the hand inside of himself away, and stares at the mess of fluids in his hole as it gapes at him. 

 

Looking up, Keith heaves and bites his kiss-loved lips. He makes a soft sound, something like a whimper and whine, and shifts his hips in hopes of getting Shiro to pay attention to what’s in between again. 

 

Shiro, instead, holds them down harder, and kissed his inner thigh. He trails his lips in a barely-kiss across Keith’s soft skin, the hair at his chin raising goosebumps all over his body. When Shiro breathes in, he has to choke on a groan at the musky scent. Ridden with oversensitivity, Keith’s thighs shake. 

 

“Please,” He whispers. Shiro concedes his prayer. 

 

Tongue flat, Shiro licks up a fat stripe up his folds, spreading the come and slick and lust. Without the warning, Keith shouts and pulls at Shiro’s hair, hips bucking wildly. Shiro eats like a famished man, curling his tongue and scooping his slick, swallowing around his stiff clit, moaning and groaning and rubbing his stubble around Keith’s pussy until it’s red and raw and on the edge of too much. 

 

With trembling thighs locked around Shiro’s head in a vice grip, Keith moans loud and long, and he orgasms for the second time that morning. Shiro swallows around him. 

 

As his chest rises and falls heavily, Shiro rests his forehead right between Keith’s hipbones and touches himself, jerking himself until he’s thrusting into his hand, bionic fist clenching unto the sheets and he spills and soils the sheets they’d washed just two nights ago. 

 

“There’s…” Keith starts, but cuts himself off by flopping an arm over his face. Shiro shifts and looks up at him, humming in encouragement and caressing the flat stomach under him. 

 

“There’s eggs…” Keith picks up his sentence. “...and coffee… in the kitchen.”

 

“Are you hungry?” Shiro mumbles into his skin.

 

“I can’t fuckin’ move.”

 

He can feel his husband chuckling between his legs. He cracks one eye open as Shiro shifts and stands, pressing a kiss to his thigh. 

 

“I’ll bring you breakfast, baby.”

 

Keith grins. “I love you.” He says in lieu of  _ ‘thank you’ _ .

 

“I love you more,” Shiro calls from the kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

> isn’t “his husband” such a powerful sentence tbh
> 
>  
> 
> twitter: shibarikeith


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